


home.

by YAMAGUWUCHI



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream is mentioned, DreamSMP - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27932218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YAMAGUWUCHI/pseuds/YAMAGUWUCHI
Summary: in which tommy can’t stand the loneliness anymore.-alternate. in which tommy does step off the edge, and all he can remember is horrid memories of his past.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 207





	home.

**Author's Note:**

> TW // SUICIDE 
> 
> hello ! so it’s 2am and whilst i was trying to fall asleep, i thought of this,, and yes i was literally sobbing whilst writing this,, SO given that info, i hope you enjoy !

tommy awoke from the bed in an unfamiliar area, but touches of him seemed to be plastered all over. 

he was holding something in his hand, grip so tight he hadn’t lost it during his fall. 

it was a compass, a glowing effect around it with a needle pointing north. words were etched into the side, and he traced his thumb against them, the material ridden down as if he’d done it a thousand times over. 

he didn’t know who tubbo was, or why he was tommy’s. 

he could remember a man with wings, a man in a yellow sweater getting struck down, and he felt his heart tighten, but he didn’t know why. 

he could still hear the sounds of explosions and screams from people he stood beside, though he didn’t recognize who they were. 

he could remember a man with horns targeting him, chasing him out of a land he was once welcomed with wide arms. 

he could remember a man in a white, smiling mask that appeared a dozen times in his thoughts, like he was a major factor in his now quiet life. 

tommy barely moved from the bed, the grip on the compass never loosening. he tried to remember anything good, but his memories were corroded with a plague. 

a man showed up at his door one night, smile on a pale face. he was familiar, the same man killed with the blade of his father, the man from his memories. 

“tommy!” his voice was squeaky, high, tinged with happiness as if he expected somebody different. 

he frowned once he saw the similar paleness of tommy’s skin, saw his figure with his knees drawn to his chest and that compass still held in his hand. 

“tommy?” 

he looked up, the only darkness of his features being under his eyes. his eyes were red, crying for people he didn’t know the names of, hoping and praying they were alright. 

“i remember you,” he finally spoke, voice pitched like the other. “but i don’t remember your name.” 

“i’m wilbur,” he said gently, softly and with sad eyes. he never wanted to be having this conversation. “what do you remember?” 

“you got killed by a man with wings. you were a tyrant who caused death and destruction. but- but i know you had to be good once, because i know i loved you.” tears singed his eyes again, tears of sadness and joy and pain. 

“oh,” wilbur’s frown deepened, eyebrows crinkling. “you don’t- you don’t remember anything good?” 

“good?” tommy laughed, laughed like he had to have with the people in the memories, “i don’t think there was ever a good thing in my life.” 

“of course there was!” wilbur reasoned, stepping further in the room and sitting at the foot of tommy’s bed. “me and you built pogtopia together! and even if people were mad at you, they still couldn’t help but laugh at your jokes. and tubbo-“ 

“tubbo? you know tubbo?” 

“of course i do! don’t you?” 

tommy looked down again, thumb tracing the etching in the metal, “no, no i don’t.” 

“tubbo,” wilbur began. “tubbo was the best thing in your life, tommy.” 

the younger’s head shot up, eyes wide, “he was? where is he?” 

“tommy,” wilbur said again with that gentle tone, “you really don’t remember?” 

wilbur knew all about suppressing unwanted memories, and tommy was most likely doing the same. 

“remember what? i want to see him,” he moved for the first time in days, ready to get up and reunite with him. 

“he doesn’t want to see you, tommy,” the words were said in a whisper. 

“why?” he was shocked, confused, “aren’t we best friends?” 

wilbur sighed, “you used to be. tommy,” they met eyes, “you took your last life, because he exiled you.” 

tommy laughed again, a genuine and loud laugh. “no- no way! best friends wouldn’t do that to each other.” 

“you threatened his nation. he had no choice. dream would have wreaked more havoc if you had stayed.” 

“dream? the one with the mask?” 

wilbur nodded. 

“but- but surely that doesn’t matter anymore, right? i mean, i’m dead,” tommy tried to reason, tears finally slipping down his cheeks. “you- you just want me to stay here in this everlasting quiet?” 

“you have to understand, if i take you back, no one will want to see you.” 

“but- but i know tubbo will! i know he will, please, wilby, please,” he found himself gasping for breath, even without the need to breathe, and his cold fingers grasped wilbur’s shirt. 

wilbur had to look away before he himself started crying. he couldn’t stand seeing his brother like this, like him. 

“okay,” he mumbled, “but i’ll bring him here.” 

-

it was weeks before it happened, wilbur visiting him a few times throughout to give him upsetting news. 

wilbur didn’t want to tell tubbo where he wanted to take him, but he was always busy, never having any time to step away. 

finally, though, a meeting had ended early, and tubbo made his way to wilbur’s small home. he saw how desperate the older was with whatever he wanted him to see, and now he could finally indulge him. 

“okay,” tubbo said, stepping off the ladder. he startled wilbur, causing him to spill a bit of the potion he was brewing, “let’s go.” 

“really?” a wide grin split on his lips. 

tubbo chuckled, always liking to see the other happy, and nodded. 

wilbur lead the way, and tubbo was glad he packed a bit of snacks and worn less formal attire with how far they were walking. 

finally, though, they made it to a small campsite, but the firepit had been unused for weeks, months probably, and the horse that was previously tied to a fence had been set free, the lead laying on the ground. 

“a camp? wilbur, seriously?” tubbo almost was annoyed, almost, because wilbur never did anything without a reason. 

tommy could hear them, but he stayed quiet, perfectly still, nervous. 

“go in!” the older ghost urged, giving tubbo a push to his back. 

tommy sat with his knees to his chest, a position he was in the most, and the compass’s needle spun until it pointed to the door of his tent. 

the cloth rustled, and then a gasp. 

“tommy!?” 

tommy couldn’t look up, found more tears filling his eyes. he seemed to be crying more than he ever had when he was alive. 

“tommy, you-“ 

that’s when tubbo noticed: tommy’s pale skin, the food growing stale that didn’t need to be ate, the compass gripped tight, a wrist with three empty hearts. 

he didn’t know what to say, could only stand shocked still. though, he couldn’t hold back the sob rising in his throat, nor the words he’d tell himself after that day almost a year ago. 

“tommy- i’m so, so sorry,” he fell to his knees, a hand covering his mouth, “this was never supposed to happen- you- you were supposed to come back! we were gonna get your discs back- together!” 

tommy didn’t know of any discs, or how he could come back to a country in which he’d been exiled, but he finally looked up. 

tommy only saw tubbo in one memory, one so quick that he thought he’d dreamt of it. tubbo had yelled and shouted, no longer with tommy, but towards him. 

it was an awful sight to see someone he loved breaking down, and he couldn’t stop himself before standing up, with unbalanced legs, and falling down next to the shorter, arms encircling him. 

he knew his skin was cold, but tubbo didn’t seem to mind, as long as tommy was there, right next to him. 

tubbo hugger back, crying into his shoulder, muttering apologies between breaths. 

when their cries stopped, they still couldn’t bring themselves to let go of each other. 

“you’re coming back with us,” tubbo finally spoke again, voice shaky, but still firm, “we’re going home.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave kudos, as well as a comment, if you enjoyed !!


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